


we can never go back (we can only do our best to recreate)

by potstickermaster



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Lena is face blind, Prosopagnosia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 02:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15451881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potstickermaster/pseuds/potstickermaster
Summary: After yet another attempt on Lena’s life, the DEO places her under protective custody—with Supergirl, of all people.Alternatively, a kind of a post-season three follow-up featuring face blind Lena and a Supergirl reveal.





	we can never go back (we can only do our best to recreate)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This took so long, I apologize. 
> 
> I don't have prosopagnosia (face blindness) nor do I know anyone with it. Everything portrayed here is based on the little research I've done, and so if I have made mistakes or looked over some details, I do apologize. Hope you can let me know so I can fix it. :) Anyway, apologies for the mistakes and inconsistencies, I’ve honestly forgotten about what happened in the show at this point lol.
> 
> Shoutout to @fuckingswen on Twitter and most especially @thefutureisequalaf for being such wonderful help! 
> 
> Title from Bastille’s Fake It. Please do let me know what you think!

 

Black coffee. Lena sighs and closes the folder of contracts she had been signing for the past hour on her first day back at L-Corp. She needs black coffee. Again. She reaches for the intercom and rings for Jess, tells her she needs a refill of her cup,  _ please, and thank you _ . She sighs again and eyes the papers in front of her.

It had been a few days since they had defeated Reign and brought Sam back. Understandably, Sam had requested to take some time off for some much-needed rest, and Lena readily agreed. God knows the woman needs it. Which means Lena is back at the helm of her company—something she missed, of course, but now she misses the lab, the action of it all compared to the monotony of office work and somehow, the thrill of having a hand in something momentous.

A heavy feeling hangs from the back of her mind, a voice that is her own saying  _ you really do have a god complex,  _ and a hazy memory of a certain heroine flickers behind her eyes. She shakes her head.

There is a knock on her door. Lena looks up and tells them to come in. She smiles at the woman who enters. Brunette, long hair, pencil skirt. 

"Your coffee, Ms. Luthor," Jess says. Lena nods and gestures to the empty cup in front of her.

"Thanks, Jess. You're a lifesaver," she says. She takes the cup of black coffee, sighs, and takes a sip despite the scalding heat that burns her tongue. "My next meeting—it’s with Mr. Queen, correct?" She asks.

Jess nods. "I'll call you when his party has arrived."

Lena thanks her again. She blinks a few times, takes another sip of her coffee, and remembers Oliver Queen. Tall, short-cropped hair, a hint of a stubble, broad shoulders and nice suits. Essentially similar to many of the men Lena had to meet in the duration of the career.

She sets aside her coffee and takes her pen again. An hour, then she is meeting Oliver Queen. For now, the papers on her desk await.

.

.

.

.

.

Crowds are hard to deal with. It was difficult before, but it’s harder now with everything gone  _ worse _ ; Lena keeps her focus on her way to the bakery near L-Corp, one she frequented back when she spent most days in her office. She knows she could easily send someone to get her favorite croissants, but she had always felt the need to stretch her legs. That, and so she could see people. Her employees are one thing; she knows where Jess is, where to find lanky Terrence from IT near her office or the blonde, ever graceful Quinn who is a few cubicles from the photocopier.

Out of L-Corp, the challenge begins. She walks past the bustle of people in the sidewalk whose faces seem like she is seeing them through a foggy looking glass, a few steps ahead of the one bodyguard Elektra had ordered to come with her, and walks into the shop. The sweet smell of baked goods hits her nose and she sighs. There are two people behind the counter and a few customers milling about, taking their orders of bread from the glass shelves.

Lena takes a tray and a pair of tongs. She picks up two croissants and makes her way to the counter. When she walks past the array of strawberry-flavored donuts with sprinkles, she is reminded of a certain blonde, and her thoughts stray to her best friend.

She wonders, briefly, how Kara is doing on her assignment. Kara hadn't given much details aside from the assignment being in a foreign country, focusing on the drug and crime rings therein. Not something any novice reporter would handle, but considering Kara is anything but—and that Kara is slowly building her portfolio as a senior investigative reporter with a knack for human interest pieces—Lena isn't really surprised that Snapper and James had sent her away.

The thought of James makes her pause. As much as she thought he had become a good friend—people who sided with a Luthor were very rare, after all—the chemistry everyone had been talking about and Lena had been searching for still wasn't anywhere to be found, and she had managed to amicably break it off with him a day or two ago, when things had calmed down. Though her own personal feelings were the sole reason she had broken up with him, in hindsight, it also served the selfish purpose of distancing her Luthor name from a vigilante wanted by law. She didn’t need more heat to her name after all.

With James on the run and Lena handling things at L-Corp for now, Snapper Carr heads CatCo. Lena had talked to him a few times and had read everything there is to know about him: He was more than capable of running CatCo, that was sure, but Lena hoped the attrition rate during his leadership wouldn’t rise.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Luthor," the staff from behind the counter greets, shaking Lena away from her thoughts. The CEO smiles and eyes the man, before her gaze flickers down to his name tag. He has been here a while and she remembers him, but she is thankful for the hint. She lets out a breath and places her tray on the counter for the staff to put her bread in a paper bag.

"Good afternoon, Wes," she smiles. "Busy afternoon, I take it?"

The young man laughs, low and heartfelt. Lena wonders when she last saw him. "As always," he says. He rings her up and she pays with her card, then leaves a generous tip in their tip box.

"Have a lovely day, Wes," she says as she leaves with a polite nod.

"You too, Ms. Luthor."

Lena smiles at him and walks to the door. She pushes it open to leave the shop and in the next moment, finds herself on the pavement, coughing, the sounds of screams distant in her ringing ears. The sweet smell of freshly-baked bread is replaced by burning rubber and smoke. Lena blinks blearily and eyes the bakeshop. A good half of it is wiped clean by whatever had exploded, but she spots Wes cowering behind the counter, eyes wide in shock and fear but alive.

Lena manages a murmur of thanks to whatever god there is before she blacks out.

.

.

.

.

.

Lena tastes the hint of bile on her tongue and feels the painful throbbing of her head before the rest of her senses focus on her surroundings. She blinks a couple of times and finds herself under dim lights. Tilting her head to the side, she finds a familiar-looking bunk bed. With a sigh, she realizes she is in the DEO med bay; she had had the opportunity—or misfortune, depending on the point of view—of spending countless hours here with Sam in their search for a cure.

"Lena."

The familiar voice startles the raven-haired woman. She directs her attention to the source of the voice, and despite knowing she is at the DEO, she thinks of Kara. Instead, she finds the proud colors of Supergirl, though her usual confident shoulders were slouched with something Lena can't quite place. She sighs.

"What happened?" Lena asks, trying to sit up. Supergirl steps closer and stands beside Lena’s bed, hand hovering over the CEO's forearm.

"No, Lena, stay still,” Supergirl says. “It's better if you get rest.”

Lena relents with a little sound of protest. Her head hurts far too much for her to argue, however. Despite the tension that had built and brewed between her and Supergirl during the whole Reign fiasco, Lena wants to think that they have left on civil terms since she had last seen the heroine—or at least, professional. Of course, there is still her omission about how she  _ still  _ had Harun-El—Alura had assumed that there wouldn't be any left on Earth and Lena had not bothered to correct her—but the black rock is a project that has taken a backseat in favor of more pressing matters, namely staying alive just to make sure her companies remain stable for the sake of her employees. 

There is stabbing pain on her head that makes Lena wince. She thinks Supergirl frowns.

"What happened?" Lena asks again.

Supergirl lets out a sigh. "You were attacked."

A sharp laugh escapes Lena. "I see my dear friends are already back on their quarterly assassination attempts," she comments dryly. The heroine doesn't react. Instead she crosses her arms.

"We don't think it's any of your… known enemies," she explains.

Lena raises an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's on a need-to-know basis for now, Ms. Luthor," another voice says. Lena turns her attention to the doorway and finds red hair and black uniform, a stride confident like Supergirl’s. Lena sighs.

"Agent Danvers," she greets. "Considering I almost died, don't you think I need to know?"

"Not yet," the agent easily answers. She stands beside Supergirl and Lena thinks she offers her a small smile. "Don't worry. No one was hurt in the earlier incident."

That at least gives Lena a peace of mind. She nods. "When am I going to be let out?"

The blonde heroine and the agent share a glance. It's Agent Danvers who speaks. "I'm afraid we'll have to send you to a safe house."

Lena stares at her blankly. "Excuse me?"

"It's a precaution," Supergirl adds. Lena only laughs.

"I have defended myself against Reign herself just fine, Supergirl," she says. "Along with many other assassination attempts. I can protect myself—"

"And yet here you are," Supergirl shoots back.

Lena purses her lips at that. Supergirl seems to take a step back and she lowers her arms on her sides in defeat. "Lena—"

"I get it, Supergirl," the CEO says with a sharp tone. 

The heroine balks at that. Lena hadn't meant to snap, but it seems they still distrust each other in more ways than one, and Lena isn't pleased about it but she isn't surprised either. After all, they are only tolerating each other in  _ professional terms;  _ she had done many things for Supergirl to doubt her, had made plans that worked for the good of many—something she hopes she is doing with the Harun-El in her possession—but still blindsided the heroine for the most part. Lena likes to think she understands, but for someone like her, a  _ Luthor,  _ to have had and lost a Super on her side hurts more than she would like to admit.

So she ignores the thought. Agent Danvers stays quiet, while the heroine lets out a monumental sigh.

"I'm saying this because I'm your friend," Supergirl finally says, her soft voice a contrast to how she is supposed to be the Girl of  _ Steel _ . It's Lena's turn to falter, sinks into her pillow and closes her eyes, remembers when she had coldly reminded the heroine that they are  _ not  _ friends. Supergirl's words catch her in surprise, and an anchor sinks in Lena's chest. She doesn't say anything for a moment, but when she meets the heroine's gaze, there is worry in blue eyes that looks entirely too familiar.

Lena sighs. "Okay," she relents after a while, and Supergirl's exhausted form seems to relax and hold on to hope. "Can I at least know whatever little detail I'm allowed to know?"

Agent Danvers makes a small sound and glances at Supergirl. She crosses her arms. Supergirl looks away.

"Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like it?" Lena blurts out.

The agent sighs. "Well." She clears her throat. "We’re sending Supergirl to the safehouse too."

 

Perfect.

 

They are sent to the safe house after Lena is given something for her aching head. Agent Danvers tells her the scans came out clear. Lena knows what there is to know anyway, knows there is nothing she can do about what she does know. She sits quietly in the lead-lined armored van that is supposed to take them to the safe house, wherever it was. Lena didn't ask much, not with Agent Danvers barely giving any details. Lena knows the agent won't do anything to endanger National City's darling daughter, after all, though of course she is  _ dying  _ to know why Supergirl, of all possible people, has to be placed in protective custody. And with Lena Luthor, too.

A thought grazes her consciousness. Lena gives the heroine who sits across her in the cramped space a glance.

"Doesn't this worry you?" She asks Supergirl, then bobs her head to gesture to the van walls. The blonde only shrugs.

"I think there are some things that have to be done," she explains. Lena only scoffs, rests her head against the wall behind her to stare at the ceiling. The dim light flickers. Supergirl doesn't ask what she means, but her silence makes Lena think she knows.

.

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.

The so-called safe house is a non-threatening bungalow painted pastel blue with white accents, at a place that is supposedly off the radar. The surrounding houses had their lights on with the evening setting in, occupied with people Lena assumes are from the DEO as well, but it is somewhere not familiar to her. It looks like the suburbs but feels much emptier, with cars parked on driveways and houses that look too immaculate—a picture-perfect scene that seems to be untouched by the outside world.

Agent Danvers ushers Lena and Supergirl inside the house. If Lena thought the area feels  _ empty,  _ the interior is definitely worse. It does not exude the feeling of safety. At all. It feels entirely stifling and not at all cozy—which is saying something, considering Lena's own apartment feels unlived in for the most part. The furniture is simple and the pieces look like they have just been dusted a few hours ago, in preparation for Lena's and Supergirl's arrival.

"The pantry has been stocked with food good a week—” Agent Danvers purses her lips and turns to Supergirl, “Or three days, actually.” She sighs. She eyes Supergirl and the heroine just shrugs. "The bathroom is complete with toiletries, too. There are two bedrooms at the end of the hall for the both of you. In the closets are standard-issued DEO clothing. Sorry we couldn't let you get anything from your home, Ms. Luthor," she says, glancing to the CEO. Lena just shrugs.

"Your track suits are comfortable," she replies with a tight smile.

The agent nods dutifully. "I can't stay for long. Brainy says he has leads, but for now, you two stay here. I'm sorry you can't get in touch with any kind of technology but there are some things that can keep you preoccupied here."

"Agent Danvers?" Lena calls out before the agent could leave. The redhead looks at her expectantly. Lena purses her lips. "Does Kara know? I mean, is she- is she safe?"

The agent stares at Lena, then glances to Supergirl for a moment. "Don't worry about her," she says, then leaves.

Lena sighs heavily. That only made Lena worry more.

.

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.

.

.

It has been a mere hour. A full hour that Lena had been trying to busy herself with one of the books she found in the bookshelf in the living room. Supergirl is sitting across her on one of the reclining chairs, and Lena does her best to keep quiet despite her building frustrations. The thought that had made itself known earlier grows bigger with nothing else to do but to drown in it.

Supergirl lets out a small sigh. Lena takes it as an invitation to ask the question that has been clawing at her for a while.

"Shouldn't you be out saving the world or helping the DEO stop whatever's happening?" She asks above her book. It’s an honest question and doesn’t necessarily mess with the professional air they seem to keep between them.

The blonde turns to her, seemingly startled at the sudden question. She hesitates. "Director Danvers advised I stay here with you."

Director Danvers? Lena purses her lips. "Director?"

Supergirl smiles. "She’s been promoted."

Lena sighs. "One of you could have corrected me earlier."

The blonde shrugs.

"Do you know why you're stuck here with me?" Lena tries again. "Surely you can do more out there compared to being stuck in this honest-to-god hell hole."

Supergirl’s lips curl in a sort of amusement. "Bored already?" She asks. Lena notices the way she dodges the question, yet again, and she is not sure if it's because she doesn't know the exact situation or because Lena isn't allowed to know. She thinks it's the latter.

"I have better uses of my time in my lab. Or at least if I have my laptop," Lena grumbles. She turns her attention to her book for a moment, then looks up above the pages to meet Supergirl's gaze again, carefully watching her. Despite their current situation and the earlier way she had snapped, the heroine doesn’t seem to be bothered much, and Lena thinks that counts for something.

A part of her—the optimistic part, of course—thinks this time together would be good for them to work out concerns they have with each other, issues they have swept under the rug while they were busy dealing with Reign. 

Another part of her—the bigger part, the part that wins all the time despite her best efforts—thinks this entire protective custody is for nothing but waste of time. Whatever the reason, the attempts on Lena's life never stop anyway, and being stuck with Supergirl of all people only feeds her pessimistic ideas of having the DEO watch her.

"It won't be for too long," Supergirl says, but there is uncertainty in her voice that Lena catches. She chuckles.

"It's just you and me here, Supergirl," Lena says. She lowers her eyes to her book, gaze dancing on words she doesn't absorb. "I think both of us can use the honesty."

The blonde doesn't say anything. 

Lena hums after a while and tries to focus on her book. 

"At least I'm sure I'm completely safe," she says after several minutes of pretending to read. She doesn't tear her attention from her book. "After all, I'm with Supergirl herself."

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Lena makes it halfway through her book. Supergirl has transferred from the reclining chair to the couch, her tall frame stretched across its length as she napped. Her bright red cape is draped over her, blonde hair fanning across her face. Lena eyes her for a moment. She looks different like this, somehow—at peace, softer despite her bulletproof skin, almost familiar. Lena shakes her head and blinks away the memory of familiarity—of the rare friends she has, of the feeling of welcome warmth. She misses people, is all.

Her thoughts move to Kara and she wonders how her best friend is.  _ Director  _ Danvers' words did not assure her at all, and with her lack of distractions, Lena can't help but think of her. It is hard these days to picture Kara, and her absence makes it worse, like the memory of her is underwater and Lena can only place a garbled voice and a hazy image of her face. Lena had wished her the best with her assignment, despite the lack of details shared. Kara had seemed excited then. When she had left, Lena had been busy, but she did send Kara a few emails asking how she was settling in at her new place of work and how her new boss is treating her. There had been no replies until the day before, and Lena briefly wonders if now, on her email inbox sits a reply from Kara Danvers, waiting for Lena to read.

The throb in her head makes itself known again. Lena shakes her head and winces. Quietly, she abandons her book on the coffee table and pads to the kitchen, leaving Supergirl in the living room. She rummages through the medicine cabinet for some painkillers. She downs two pills with a glass of water and stares at the kitchen table.

Might as well.

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Lena busies herself with the pantry. She checks every cabinet door for whatever they contain, then the refrigerator, and she lists everything down on a piece of paper she found in the living room. Once done, she takes another page and alphabetizes them, then begins to arrange them in the cabinets and containers based on her alphabetized list.

Supergirl finds her later while she is placing spring onions in the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?" The blonde asks, amusement apparent in her voice. Lena sighs, spares her a glance, then puts the zucchinis in the vegetable compartment of the fridge before closing it shut and getting on her feet.

"Making myself busy," Lena says. She hopes she isn't blushing.

Supergirl chuckles. "Organizing the fridge?"

Lena huffs. "And everything else."

Supergirl nods and walks to the fridge to get herself a bottle of water.

"Had a good nap?" Lena asks before she could stop herself. She bites her lip. Professional is civil and they aren’t on each other’s throats yet. "I'd have thought all the rummaging would wake you up, what with your sensitive ears and all," she adds quickly.

The blonde shrugs and finishes half her bottle. "It was well-needed rest."

Lena eyes her for a moment, but bobs her head. "Do you eat chow mein?" She asks instead.

Supergirl looks at her as she caps the bottle in her hand. "You cook?"

The CEO shrugs. "Not that often," she admits. She lifts the list of items she had categorized for the duration of the early evening. "Might as well make full use of all these ingredients and the plentiful free time I have, right?"

The chuckle Supergirl responds her with is startlingly warm and familiar, and Lena has to look up to make sure it is still Supergirl in front of her, shoulders proud with her strength and confidence and the red and blue of her suit. "I have a big appetite though," Supergirl says.

Lena gives her a smile. In spite of their missteps, they  _ are _ civil and the optimist in Lena takes the light for a moment, reaches for a  _ friendly  _ tone. "Don't worry, I know how to deal with people like you," she says with a chuckle. 

She gets her ingredients ready with familiarity she had just learned after spending a good hour and a half in the kitchen. Supergirl sits on the counter, away from where Lena is working, and watches quietly; Lena doesn't mind, though she becomes hyper-aware of the eyes watching her.

She is slicing the carrots when she glances at Supergirl. "Can I ask you something?" She returns her attention to the chopping board. "You're friends with Kara, right?"

Supergirl makes a small noise. "Yeah." A pause. Lena sets aside the carrots. "Why?"

The CEO starts the wok. She shrugs as she adds oil and lets it heat up. "I just- I want to know if you've heard from her?" Lena tries to look busy, frying the chicken and letting them brown. She hopes she doesn't sound as pathetic as she feels, asking such questions. She is curious, is all, and perhaps a little too worried. She knows Kara is her own person, an adult capable of taking care of herself, but she  _ is  _ her best friend, and if Lena learned anything the past few months, it's that she should value her very few friendships because one never knows what might happen. So she sighs, pays half a mind to her task at hand, and manages the words. "I've sent her emails because James mentioned her getting assigned to different places as part of her training, but so far…" She shrugs.

Supergirl is quiet for a moment. Lena  adds the vegetables to her wok before eyeing the heroine.  

"I- Yeah," the blonde replies. "She said she's fine."

 

Oh.

 

"I see," Lena says softly. She drags her gaze from Supergirl back to her pan, then adds the noodles and the sauce after a while as she processes the fact she is given. "Thank you for letting me know," she adds.

The heroine replies with  _ no problem,  _ a sort of relief evident in her voice. Lena finishes up cooking and dumps the chow mein in a large plate, then sets it on the dining table.

"Dinner awaits, Supergirl," Lena says with a tight smile. The heroine jumps off the counter and walks to the table. When Lena starts washing up with the utensils she used in cooking, Supergirl seems to frown.

"You're not going to eat?" She asks.

Lena eyes her and gives her a tight smile. "I'm good," she says softly, then ignores the heroine, instead focuses on scrubbing the wok until it looks brand new and her hands are numb enough so she doesn't feel the unfamiliar but painful ache in her chest—an anchor, sinking her down, down, down.

Maybe Kara's memories of her are underwater too.

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When the night grows older, silence seems to be the pair's companion. Dinner had mostly been awkward, at least Lena thinks; she had been too focused on obsessively making sure everything she had used in cooking were clean while the blonde ate and tried to make conversation, which were made up of futile invitations for Lena to join her and the raven-haired woman half-heartedly making excuses about skipping dinner.

Lena leaves Supergirl after a while to go to one of the bedrooms she claims as hers, where the tears come without another pair of eyes around.

 

Did she do something wrong?

 

She tries to remember how Kara had left, how Kara felt, how Kara looked when she said goodbye to Lena. All she can place is the warmth in her embrace.

.

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Lena deems herself presentable a while later. She takes a change of clothes to the bathroom and doesn't notice Supergirl in the living room on her way. She cleans up and changes into DEO-issued black sweat pants and a shirt. Comfortable, as she had told Director Danvers, but they do nothing to soothe the ache in Lena's chest nor the worry that chews away at the back of her mind.

She doesn't quite know what time it is when she walks back out to the living room with every intention to read, but she finds Supergirl on the couch, munching on some apple-flavored biscuits that were the first item in her inventory as she reads a book Lena can't make out the title of. The heroine is still wearing her suit. The CEO sighs, takes her book from the coffee table, and settles on the reclining chair beside the couch.

"You can change, you know," Lena mumbles absentmindedly as she opens the book to where she had stopped earlier.

Supergirl makes a small sound. "What?" She asks, lifting her gaze from her book.

"Out of your suit," Lena replies, eyeing the heroine. "I don't think it's very comfortable."

Supergirl shrugs. "It's fine."

Lena chuckles and focuses on her book. She blinks a few times. "I'm not going to peek if that's what you're worried about," she drones. "If anything,  _ you're _ the one with x-ray vision."

The blonde seems to chokes on air. Lena lifts her gaze. "My, I didn't know you had such delicate sensibilities," she muses. 

"Shut up," Supergirl says, before standing and throwing her book on the couch and stalking to her room. Or at least, the room across the one Lena had owned as hers. Lena lets herself laugh— _ friendly— _ and when the door slams shut, she finally returns to her book.

Supergirl returns after a while. She is wearing the same sweat pants and shirt Lena is wearing, all black, and it seems a little odd and out of context on her that Lena has to blink several times to absorb the reality in front of her. The heroine hurries to sit down and returns to reading but Lena follows her with her gaze; her blonde hair is in waves over her shoulders, and her gait is unsure somehow and so unlike the Supergirl she knew. Her piercing blue eyes are familiar but Lena can't place where she knows them from. 

Maybe the ocean.

"You're really sticking to guarding me, huh?" Lena says without thinking, and she thinks a blush settles on Supergirl's cheeks.

"My earlier nap means I'm a little awake right now," the heroine mumbles. Lena glances at her, hums, and nods, accepting her excuse.

They could use the honesty, but Lena doesn’t think she can handle it.

.

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.

.

Lena doesn't remember what time she had gone to bed or fallen asleep, but she headed to her bedroom first before Supergirl did. Sleep was dreamless, for the most part—at least if she didn't count garbled memories of Kara's voice, images of her faces hazy like they were underwater or like Lena is seeing her through glasses that blurred out faces.

Names are easy, that she has come to know. Her sharp memory helps, too, and so does her quick thinking, but they are all for naught when she can't see the faces she is supposed to remember.

The longing that hollows out her chest in her dreams stays with her in her waking moments, and despite taking a few minutes to herself before getting up, it doesn't leave. It's the longing that stays with her at the thought that she won't be able to picture Kara in her mind’s eye, not until she sees her again in the flesh.

She doesn't even know when that is. Not with this  _ situation  _ and not with Kara away for some assignment Lena doesn't know the full extent of.

She just hopes Kara is okay. That much is enough.

 

Her head aches, a piercing kind of pain that has been too familiar for her own liking.

 

Lena makes her way to the kitchen with a mission of having painkillers for breakfast. She finds Supergirl, all blonde hair and black clothes, humming in the kitchen.

_ “You  _ cook?" Lena blurts out with a chuckle.

Supergirl jumps a bit in surprise, making Lena raise an eyebrow. She would have thought the heroine would have heard her arrival. Supergirl glances at her and shrugs. "I tried," she says with a chuckle, before placing the pancakes she had made out of the pan and onto a plate.

Lena hums and inspects the perfect circles stacked neatly on the counter. "Looks good," she smiles. Supergirl seems to relax at that and she laughs as she pours what looks like the last of the batter.

It’s friendly, she thinks, and she wonders briefly if  _ this  _ is okay—peace during breakfast, lack of work-related tension, as if this hell-hole the DEO called a safehouse is an alternate universe where Lena Luthor and Supergirl could pretend like they were other people.

Lena bites the bullet and asks: "Do you always cook?" 

Supergirl’s responding shrug is easy, like she doesn’t bear the same hesitancy Lena has. She makes a show of flipping the pancake and grins at Lena, and the CEO thinks that maybe they are okay—Supergirl considers her a friend, so she said, and in this alternate universe where Lena forgets about what has happened, the thought makes her feel better.

"No. I like pizza and po- " Supergirl coughs and furrows her eyebrows. "Popcorn."

Lena smiles at that. "Pizza? Is that why you and Kara are such friends?"

Supergirl glances at her, then flips the pancake she is cooking. "I'm just friendly," the blonde says, voice soft. 

"Or Kara is," Lena points out. She makes her way to the fridge to get a box of orange juice, pours herself a glass, then takes painkillers from the medicine cabinet. She washes them down with her full glass, only notices then that Supergirl hasn’t said anything. She is staring at Lena. “What?" The raven-haired woman blurts out, conscious all of a sudden.

Supergirl blinks, shakes her head, and returns her gaze on her pan. “Nothing.” 

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.

They receive an update from Director Danvers that afternoon. It comes in the form of an envelope shucked into the gap under the door that Lena notices when she started cleaning the already spotless house just to keep her mind away from her thoughts. She shows it to Supergirl. All it contains is a card that says  _ we’re close to finding them, hold tight.  _

Lena stares incredulously at it. “Find who? My attackers?” 

At least Supergirl doesn’t try to lie. She nods and says yes, and Lena sighs and resigns herself back to her reclining seat. Supergirl looks like she wants to say something. 

“Unless it’s to tell me who they are, I’d rather not hear it. I have a feeling it’s something optimistic,” Lena grumbles. 

The blonde ducks her head and keeps quiet.

Lena purses her lips and looks at her. Supergirl really looks different outside of her suit—a civilian who looks like any other normal human being, except Lena knows she isn’t, but her eyes betray her and so does her brain. Blonde hair, broad shoulders, fidgeting hands—a mirage of the heroine Lena knows that coaxes a fleeting memory of someone in her mind. She sighs again and rests her head against the back of her seat, closing her eyes. 

“The attempts on your life are because you’re doing something good,” Supergirl whispers into the silence. “They’re trying to stop you.” 

The words feel empty, at least to Lena, but Supergirl’s tone at least sounds like she means them. Still, she scoffs but doesn’t say anything, not until a while later when the silence becomes suffocating.

 

"Do you think Kara thinks I'm like my brother?" Lena asks, lifting her head to look at Supergirl, who is seated on the couch across her left.

Supergirl furrows her eyebrows and crosses her arms. "Why do you think that?"

"I’m asking,” Lena says with a shrug. She wants to think that Kara doesn’t think so—Kara is her best friend, after all, and the only one left on Lena’s side. She once stood there with Supergirl. “Everyone else does."

Supergirl swallows thickly. "I'm sorry if I—"

"I mean, I get it,” Lena interrupts with a wave of her hand. The blonde purses her lips and shakes her head; something in the way she sat made her look smaller, like she is hesitant of this conversation they were about to have. Lena considers it inevitable when they were stuck in this place, just the two of them, and she guesses it’s better to get it over with sooner so she could deal with her wounds afterwards. “I’m a Luthor, after all. Kara doesn’t even know I did  _ that  _ to Sam, and—” She takes a shaky breath, closes her eyes, remembers Sam’s screams of pain. Kara could easily dismiss her as  _ yet another Luthor  _ should she know of it. 

Supergirl takes a deep breath and releases it with a shuddering sigh. “Look, Lena… I know I doubted you at one point—”

Lena laughs without meaning to, stops abruptly. She doesn’t apologize. Supergirl sits up straight, hands on her lap, but her shoulders hunched with uncertainty that Lena can’t see the proud hero she is supposed to be. 

The blonde sighs. “I want to apologize. Sincerely. I had…” She sighs again. She doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, and she fiddles for a bit before taking one of the pillows on the couch to put it on her lap. It’s odd to see Supergirl  _ falter  _ like this, but Lena lets her speak. “I had certain feelings I should have processed better and I- I shouldn't have antagonized you.”

There is warmth and sincerity in her voice, something that’s almost familiar, something Lena appreciates. She likes to think she could point out lies from people’s words, likes to think no one can keep secrets from her, and she is glad Supergirl is honest again. She nods. 

“I apologize as well,” Lena whispers, “for keeping Sam and Reign a secret.” She shrugs, settles her hands on the armrests. “It- it wasn't  _ my  _ secret to tell.” She gives Supergirl a pointed look. “Surely you understand.”

Supergirl wavers again, but she nods. A few seconds of silence pass and she lets out a defeated breath. “You are not your brother,” she finally says, voice soft but steely with conviction, and the words are of the one person Lena trusts but spoken from lips she barely knows. 

Lena blinks at Supergirl, perceives nothing but the fragments of her features, her blonde hair, the black of her clothes. She lets out a long sigh. “Good,” she says with a small smile. “At least that's out of the way.”

Supergirl only nods again. She looks like there is something she still wants to say, but when several minutes pass and she doesn’t speak again, Lena takes her book and continues to read it, though her question about Kara still lingers in her mind.

Lena hopes Kara doesn’t think so. She doesn’t think she could take it.

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"The microwave isn't working," Lena says, approaching Supergirl on the couch where she is reading a book. She holds out a mug half-full with lukewarm coffee.

Supergirl looks up from her book, at the mug, then at Lena. "The stove does?” 

"I just want to reheat my coffee,” Lena mumbles. She lifts her mug again in case the blonde didn’t see. “Can you please heat this for me?"

Supergirl blinks a couple of times, opens her mouth, closes it again, before managing the words. "I can't."

Lena frowns. “Are your laser eyes going to be radioactive or something?" She purses her lips and looks at her mug. “I thought—”

"No, I…” Supergirl trails off and sighs heavily. She looks like she is debating some great thought. Lena just wants her coffee heated. The blonde closes her book and shrugs, looks up at Lena apologetically. “I don't have my powers," she finally says.

Lena’s frown deepens. She lets out a breath of realization. “Well,” she sighs, pulling her mug against her belly with both hands. “That explains being locked here with me better."

The Kryptonian shrugs uneasily. "Yeah."

"You could've told me," Lena says. “It’s not like I’ll try to kill you or anything.” 

“I don’t—” 

Lena chuckles. “It’s a joke, Supergirl,” she says, though it stings that she just  _ knows  _ Supergirl and her friends probably think she would try to harm her. She stares at her mug. “Guess I just have to mix this with a new batch of coffee.” She moves to make her way to the kitchen, pauses, and looks curiously at Supergirl. “Can caffeine keep you up now that you don’t have powers?” 

Supergirl seems to think about that and she shrugs. “We can find out?”

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Alone in the kitchen, Lena lets herself wonder how Supergirl had lost her powers while she is brewing her coffee. She wants to ask, just to sate her curiosity, but she also knows Supergirl might not be so keen on telling her. She is a Luthor after all— _ the next Lex Luthor, the next Lex Luthor _ —and it’s one thing to show vulnerability and another to tell the  _ cause  _ of it. Still, she hypothesizes; she has read enough of Lex’s notes to know that Kryptonians are essentially powered by the yellow sun’s radiation, and it could be possible that Supergirl had blown out her powers in a previous fight. Which means she only had to recharge for her to get her powers back—unless of course, something else had happened. 

A part of Lena wonders if it has something to do with her. The DEO has yellow sun lamps, after all, and it would have only been a matter of hours before Supergirl was ready to save the world again. And yet here she was, stuck in the middle of nowhere, powerless even after several hours. 

Lena watches the coffee drip into the pot, unseeing as her thoughts run wild. The last she has seen of Supergirl was back at the DEO as everyone bid Winslow Schott Jr. goodbye and Lena returned the black rock to Supergirl’s mother. She had heard some agents talk about remaining members of some cult of sorts then, too, something about worshipping aliens, but after that she had left for L-Corp and hadn’t really returned to the DEO until after yesterday’s explosion.

All she had were theories and speculations, especially since  _ Director  _ Danvers didn’t say much about the situation. 

She just hopes and wishes none of what is happening is her fault.

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With her mug of hot coffee in hand—half of it her earlier lukewarm coffee and the other half freshly-brewed—Lena returns to the living room with every intention to finish her book. She walks in on Supergirl bunching her hair up in a ponytail and Lena stops short, the sight of it odd and out of context yet again that she has to blink a couple of times to get herself used to it.

Supergirl freezes when she notices Lena standing just across her. "Are you okay?" She asks, and she drops her hair back over her shoulders. The fragments settle into place but Lena is still stunned, unable to fully piece together the picture of Supergirl in her mind’s eye. She shakes her head and gives the heroine a tight smile. 

"Sorry, it’s—” Lena sighs and heads to her seat, putting her mug on the coffee table and waving Supergirl’s concerned look away. “It's nothing," she says, even if deep down she realizes it’s a fleeting image of Kara Danvers that grazes her mind. 

She misses Kara, misses her company, misses  _ knowing  _ what she looks like, and she curses the many events that led her here now with a damaged brain, as if the damage in her soul hasn’t been enough. It’s difficult, and burning her tongue with hot coffee doesn’t distract her away enough from the longing ache that builds in her chest at the thought that she won’t remember what her Kara looks like until she sees her again. 

All she can remember is feeling like coming home when Kara hugged her the last time, before she left, but at this point, she doesn’t know if that is an actual memory or an imagined one.

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"Can we talk?"

 

Lena looks up from the last pages of her book and turns to Supergirl, who stands in front of her, her arms crossed. She tries to blink away the images she conjures of Kara, or at least some hazy memory of her—it’s the blonde hair, she thinks, it’s the blonde hair and how she misses her so much—and gives the heroine a stiff nod. “What about?” 

Supergirl takes a visibly shuddering breath before holding her chin higher. “I- Um, I think I’m ready.”

Lena closes her book and furrows her eyebrows at the woman. “Ready for what?”

“To- To talk,” Supergirl continues. “About- About me. Um. Us.”

“Us,” Lena repeats dumbly, confused. The blonde fidgets. "What do you mean, Supergirl?"

“I know you know, Lena,” Supergirl says softly, and Lena isn’t sure but she thinks she hears  _ tears  _ in the heroine’s voice. She looks away, uneasy. “And I don’t know if you’re pretending because I’ve broken your trust and you don’t want to—” Supergirl pauses and takes a shuddering breath, and Lena’s sure now that she’s crying. “I don’t want this anymore. Not between us. I’m- I’m sorry. I really am, Lena, I—” 

“What are you talking about?” Lena asks with a little awkward laugh, and it’s like that breaks Supergirl then, because she bites back a sob, wipes her cheeks with the back of her hands. Lena is at a loss what to do—she never really expected for Supergirl to  _ cry  _ in front of her as she apologizes, and she could only raise her hands to reach for the heroine. Supergirl is quiet for several moments, until she sighs as if in defeat.

"Okay. Okay, I’ll say it," she whispers. “I’m Kara.” 

 

Lena blinks. She laughs, stops abruptly, because Supergirl is quiet, still. 

"That's not funny," Lena says, but she stares at the blonde, unseeing, notices the little fragments of her features that are similar, so similar to Kara—blonde hair, ocean eyes. Of course.

How she acts, like right now—it’s supposedly Supergirl she sees, but instead, there is the meekness she only ever associated with Kara. Her Kara.

“Lena,” Supergirl whispers, her voice a soft plea that’s familiar, entirely too familiar, and—

It’s odd.

She pieces things together now, the fragments she can remember of her Kara—she thinks she remembers the ponytail, the shirts. The  _ glasses. _ The way they both carried themselves is different, except now, and Lena isn’t really quite sure what she is seeing—an eclipse of identities, perhaps, and don’t eclipses blind? 

She remembers, the first time Supergirl had come to her rescue. Her voice had been the same as Kara Danvers’, except Kara had stumbled through her words and Supergirl had been confident, reassuring, and back then Lena thought it was  _ just  _ a coincidence. Trying to remember Kara then was like a chasing the memory of a dream; then she met Supergirl. 

She closes her eyes and tries to remember them separately, but she can’t conjure the image of Kara now, or of Supergirl—they’re fragments she can’t put together. She knows how Kara’s eyes look alike, how she smiles, remembers the proud grin of Supergirl, but she can’t piece them together to form a face, can only think of how they made her feel. 

Kara, the neverending warmth of a familiar friend. Supergirl, the inspiration from a person she looked up to and the chaos of frustration in the past several weeks during Reign’s rage. But she can’t remember their faces, like her mind’s images of them are underwater, hazy, and—

“Lena.”

Supergirl— _ Kara’s voice? _ —brings her back to the present and she opens her eyes, and there she is: Supergirl, in civilian clothes that could easily be Kara Danvers’. Except… 

Except, well, she  _ is  _ Kara Danvers.

 

Lena’s head aches, a piercing kind of pain that has been too familiar for her own liking. Her chest aches, too.

 

“You’re Kara,” Lena says slowly. She blinks. The image of the woman in front of her seems to focus now, and she  _ sees  _ her. “My Kara Danvers is Supergirl.”

 

Silence. 

 

Lena stands up finally, abandons her book and her half-consumed cup of now lukewarm coffee, runs shaky hands through her hair. Her head aches.

“I’ve wanted to tell you so many times, Lena,” Supergirl— _ Kara— _ says, her voice almost a whimper, unfamiliar, and she steps closer to the raven-haired woman but Lena stops her with a raised index finger.

“Don’t,” Lena sighs—begs, almost. She takes a deep breath, shakes her head, tries to wrap her mind around the sheer idea of  _ this.  _

She supposes she should have known. The only person with as big a heart as Kara Danvers is Supergirl herself, and maybe, if it weren’t for her disorder, she could have realized earlier that her best friend and National City’s darling daughter were one and the same.

But if she did, what then? Supergirl— _ Kara— _ didn’t know of her disorder.  _ Kara  _ never told her this until now.

She takes a deep breath. There are secrets a person like Supergirl must keep, she supposes. Especially from a Luthor, of all people. But that’s Supergirl. Her best friend,  _ her Kara,  _ wouldn’t lie to her like that, would she? 

Or—

Or maybe her Kara just wants to protect her.

“Why keep it a secret?” She asks finally, desperate to know. “It was your secret to keep, but I want to know.” 

Supergirl— _ Kara— _ swallows thickly. She drops her arms on her sides in defeat. “You’re all Kara Danvers has for herself,” she whispers. 

Lena blinks. Crossing her arms, she looks away and sighs again. She doesn’t know what to do with the information, but it only  _ stings  _ further.  _ Kara Danvers  _ was—is?—her person. Her best friend, one of the very few people Lena trusts, and yet… 

“Kara Danvers is all  _ I  _ have for myself, Supergirl,” she whispers, defeated. “Did you have to take her away from me?” 

The blonde’s eyes widen. “Lena—”

“No,” Lena says, voice tired now. “I don’t understand. Kara—” She shakes her head and corrects herself with a hiss of  _ Supergirl,  _ and the blonde flinches but Lena ignores the reaction. “You went behind my back.”

“You kept a Worldkiller,” Supergirl shoots back, but she seems to regret it as soon as the word is out. Lena chuckles listlessly. 

“Better get everything out in the open now, right?” She scoffs. “Sam’s secret wasn’t mine to tell.” 

Supergirl shakes her head. “No. But you could have asked for  _ help.”  _ She swallows. “I’d risk myself and this city for you, Lena. I would’ve understood.” 

“Would you have risked it for Sam?” Lena asks. “You don’t think the DEO would’ve used  _ their  _ own kryptonite on her if they knew it would help?”

Supergirl- _ Kara- _ balks at that. “You know what kryptonite does to me,” she whispers. “So I know what Sam felt. I wouldn’t have let them.” 

“You still did, after everything,” Lena points out. “And you  _ know me _ , Kara. Or at least I thought you did. God.” Lena laughs deliriously. “Did you not trust me? I chose  _ you  _ over the man I loved. Over my own  _ family.  _ We know what  _ you  _ can do. You don’t think I don’t know about the incident with the red kryptonite? I didn’t make kryptonite to kill Supers. If I wanted that, trust me, I could’ve done so by now.” Her outburst turns softer as the blonde’s shoulders seem to sink with defeat. “But I haven’t. And I never will. And I’ve tried  _ so  _ hard to prove that. To you. To everyone. And I thought at least  _ my Kara  _ at least believed that.”

“I do,” Kara— _ Supergirl— _ says weakly. 

“You said I was just like my brother.”

 

Silence.

“Out of reasons, Supergirl?” Lena laughs dryly. “I get it. Things change when you see someone in a different light.” She takes a deep breath. Her eyes burn with tears she has been trying to hold back but she keeps her chin up. “I’m not even mad that you kept your identity as Supergirl. But maybe you should’ve never told me the truth at all.” 

“Lena…” 

Lena smiles sadly. “You know, I would’ve been fine with everyone else thinking I’m the next Lex Luthor because none of their opinions mattered to me, because they didn’t know me like Kara Danvers did.” She shrugs. “Funny how things work out, I guess.” 

Supergirl takes a step closer. Lena maintains their distance. “I’m still your Kara,” the blonde whispers.

“Are you?” 

 

And it’s like no heavier words have been said to the blonde, not with how she reacted like her heart has shattered to a thousand fragments then—the same fragments of her expression that Lena can and cannot perceive, but Supergirl’s frame sags with defeat like all fight has lost her soul. 

Lena feels the same. 

“I  _ am  _ sorry,” Supergirl— _ Kara— _ says, voice soft and raw with tears. “From the bottom of my heart. I— I overreacted and…” She wrings her hands in front of her. “I’m not the best when it comes to reacting to change, and you—” 

_ Kara  _ sighs again, bites her lip, and when she speaks her voice cracks. “You’re the one person that is Kara’s, sucked into the mess that is Supergirl’s life. I couldn’t—” She chokes back her tears, and something in Lena cracks then, too, but she balls her fists because she  _ needs  _ this explanation. “I really am sorry, Lena. But back then I… I was lost and confused. I thought we had each other’s backs, and then—” Supergirl— _ Kara,  _ it’s Kara she sees now, as she fiddles with her hands as if they held the words Lena needed to hear. “But it turns out you didn’t need me after all. So I lashed out. Focused on the kryptonite with the excuse of self-preservation on my part.” 

Kara laughs. It’s a hollow sound, helpless, so unlike the sun in her laughter that Lena has come to know.

Lena sucks in a breath. She likes to think she understands—she barely knew of the heartache the heroine carries, but she had a glimpse of  _ Kara’s  _ grief, when Mon-El had gone, had returned with a wife despite Kara’s heart in his hands. She knows Supergirl is one of the few Kryptonians left. She  _ wants _ to think she at least understands the need to keep away everything that threatens them. 

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t  _ hurt  _ to learn all this from the very person she trusted. 

“I need a moment,” is all Lena says, then she leaves Supergirl— _ Kara,  _ god, it’s Kara, it’s  _ her Kara _ —in the living room.   

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Her head aches, her eyes burn, and in her mind’s eye she can no longer picture who Kara Danvers is, who Supergirl is, though their— _ her— _ voice, her words, still echo through Lena’s mind. Fragments of her flicker in the back of Lena’s mind like photographs—blonde hair, blue eyes, a cape. Glasses, the fucking glasses. The memory of warmth, the feeling of safety. Photographs that never form the picture of her Kara in her mind.

Supergirl— _ Kara,  _ her Kara—has her reasons. Lena has hers, too, and she needs time to process.

It’s for the best. 

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There’s a knock on her door that night for dinner, and an hour later a knock and a soft plea, but Lena doesn’t move both times from where she is curled up in her bed. 

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The next day when she goes out to use the bathroom, she sees Kara in the living room, sitting on the couch, hugging her knees and staring into nothingness. There are bags under her eyes. 

“Are you alright?” Lena asks before she could even stop herself. Kara looks exhausted and she regrets asking but the agony Lena feels is reflected in blue eyes.

Kara shrugs and smiles sadly at Lena’s direction. “I could be better.”

Honesty. Good. Lena crosses her arms. “Did Director Danvers update us yet?”

Kara shakes her head.

Lena tenses but says nothing. She nods and turns  on her heel but Kara stops her.

“Do you hate me now?” Kara asks. The question takes her by surprise but Lena assumes it’s an honest question—a good question, too, given their situation, and if it were any other time Lena would commend the fantastic reporter that Kara is.

Lena pauses on her steps, but she doesn’t look back at Kara when she answers. 

“I could never hate you, Kara,” she whispers. She can’t picture Kara’s face in her head but she knows there is a storm in her eyes that neither of them can soothe. “I’m angry and there are things I don’t fully understand but I could never hate you.” She turns to Kara, finally. The blonde looks at her with eyes close to tears. Lena offers her a sad smile nonetheless. “Maybe I just need time.” 

Lena can’t give Kara much, but it’s a start.

Kara nods. 

“Would you resent me?” Lena asks, unable to resist. 

“Take as long as you need,” Kara replies. There is an unspoken promise in her words that Lena tries to ignore but she latches on to it, like a life raft in the raging storm they found themselves in. 

Lena is thankful, because otherwise, she’ll sink into darkness.

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Corville and the rest of his cult gets caught. At least, that is what Director Danvers tells them come the night, when she arrives with Brainy to pick them up and to let Lena know she’s safe. 

Lena leaves without much word—she doesn’t ask what  _ exactly  _ happened, doesn’t ask what happened to Supergirl for her to lose her powers or what will happen now. Director Danvers calls after her to offer a ride back to her apartment but Lena ignores it, instead calls for her driver to pick her up several blocks away from the building the DEO hides itself in. 

She dives back to work as soon as she gets access to her laptop, shrugs off Jess’s concerns and apologizes for her absence, though thankfully someone from the DEO explained the situation, with whatever front they used to tell Jess she had  _ almost died _ . Probably the FBI. Lena sets five meetings the next day, stares at photos of the people she is supposed to meet despite knowing she won’t recognize them when they come in.

It’s a relief from seeing— _ not seeing— _ the flickering fragments of blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sad smile behind her eyelids. 

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CatCo is doing well under Snapper Carr. No one has resigned yet, which is more than Lena had been hoping for. A couple of days after the bakeshop bombing, she hears from Jess, who heard from Ms. Teschmacher that Kara has returned from her “foreign assignment” and is back to her daily journalist grind, now as senior investigative reporter.

Lena doesn’t know what to feel about the whole thing, but a part of her is proud because if there is anyone who deserved acknowledgement, it’s Kara.

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Lena almost dies again, some days later.

It’s one of her old friends this time. Ethan Cobblepot is a madman well on his way to follow Lex’s footsteps, and though she barely heard his thinly-veiled threat when he came to L-Corp demanding Lena to back off from a deal he wanted VicForm to win, she is sure it was his idea to sabotage her private plane. 

Why did she choose to fly again? 

Oh, right. Safest form of transportation—fastest, too, and she couldn’t really care less about  _ other _ concerns when she can finish one meeting in National City in one hour and another meeting in New York in the next.

It should bother her how she isn’t terrified anymore. She sees red and blue in the back of her mind and hears a distant voice screaming for her to climb but she ignores it. The burning plane is bright despite her closed eyes and she hopes it doesn’t hurt when it all ends. 

It doesn’t. One second the plane is burning and hurtling back to the ground and the next they were airborne again. Lena realizes what is happening and she sighs, distantly wondering if dying was an easier fate.

They are safe on the ground moments later. One side of the plane is ripped open. 

“Lena,” a familiar voice cries out, tone laced with concern, and when Lena turns her attention to the direction of it she finds blue suit and red cape and blonde hair. Supergirl is in front of her in a second, checking on her, uncertainty in her movements but relief at the sight of Lena  _ okay. _

“Are you okay?” She asks anyway. 

It’s Kara, she knows now. It’s Kara who saved her from that helicopter, that fall from her office balcony, the attack at L-Corp, from her mother. It’s Kara, too, who she told of her distrust in Supergirl, who lied to her, who went behind her back—but it’s also Kara who saved her from the grief that threatened to consume her when she has lost  _ everything,  _ who saved her from the darkness she just wants to succumb to most days.

“You saved me,” Lena whispers.

Kara seems to be taken aback at that, like what Lena said surprised her. “Of course I—”

“Thank you,” Lena interrupts, not entirely sure she can handle a conversation with Kara right now. 

She needs time.

Kara nods stiffly. She lingers in front of Lena, as if she wants to say something, and when she finally does her words stay with Lena well after everything is over and she is back in her apartment.

 

“I promised to always protect you.”

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.

Lena needs time to understand and to forgive, and she takes it. Things are professional between her and Kara during the times she visits CatCo for weekly meetings and board updates, but other than that, it’s mostly silence. She finds Kara stealing glances sometimes; Lena knows Kara could hear how her heart races each time but she doesn’t say anything. 

Lena needs time, but despite her pride and her stupid want to hold on to her anger, it’s still Kara. Supergirl may have saved her, but it’s  _ Kara  _ who rescued her from worse fates—darkness, Lena’s own demons. Lena herself.

What was that again, about love and blindness?

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When she texts Kara that she wants to have brunch together, the reply comes two seconds after she sent  _ Are you available for brunch today?  _

_ Yes  _ is followed another couple of seconds after with  _ Anywhere you want. Please.  _ A part of Lena wonders if Kara had been waiting for a text or call from her but a bigger part of her doesn’t want to, because the thought of it worries her. 

She invites Kara for brunch at a quaint Chinese restaurant near L-Corp. Lena manages to finish two meetings before she comes over, walking her way to the restaurant. A bodyguard tails her but she ignores him, ignores the blurred faces she walks past. 

The restaurant isn’t packed, but it takes a moment for Lena—only when the Kara raised her hand and softly called her name does she find the blonde. Lena mentally chastises herself but walks over, and as soon as she was seated, Kara asks her if she was okay. 

“I’m fine,” Lena says, the lie easily slipping past her lips, but then she sighs heavily as a realization dawns on her. If they were to start their friendship again, it has to be on a blank slate—or at least, a clean slate that meant no lies or omissions of truth. She bites her lip. “I’m working on being fine,” she corrects, gives Kara a small smile, and sighs. “I just didn’t recognize you.” 

Kara’s shoulders sink then. Lena watches her pull back, and she just  _ knows  _ an apology is on her tongue but she shakes her head. “It’s not about—” Lena sighs again. “It’s not about your whole… secret thing. I have acquired prosopagnosia.”

It’s the first time she ever told anyone. It’s odd, saying it out loud now, and for some reason it feels so much realer this time around even if she has struggled for so long to recognize faces, that even as she sits in front of Kara, all she can see is blonde hair, blue eyes, a frown on her lips, but never the whole of it. 

At Kara’s silence, Lena continues. “Face blindness due to head trauma,” she clarifies with a little laugh. “Brought about my regular assassination attempts. Thankfully it’s just that and nothing too serious.”

“Oh.” Kara blinks. A waiter comes over to hand them menus that both of them take quietly.

Lena manages a smile. She glances at the menu, then back up at Kara. “Yes. That explains why I never… put two and two together.” A shrug, then she looks down at the menu in her hands again. “You could’ve pulled off the secret identity if you hadn’t told me,” she adds. It lacks the malice Lena’s pride wanted to color it with, instead sounded more amused.

When she looks up to meet Kara’s gaze though, the blonde is smiling sadly. “I didn’t want to lie to you anymore,” Kara says. “I just want to earn your trust back.”

If they were to start their friendship again, it has to be on a blank slate—or at least, a clean slate that meant no lies or  _ omissions of truth _ . Lena looks down and bites her lip. 

“I still have some of the Harun-El,” she whispers. She keeps her head down until she sighs and manages to look up, locking eyes with Kara. She stares at Lena, mouth slightly open, and Lena knows she has so many questions.

“I see,” Kara replies with a soft sigh. She shrugs, smiles, as if Lena just told her about the weather. “Thank you for telling me.”

“That’s it?” Lena blurts out. 

Kara nods. “I just wish you told me earlier, but I’m glad you’re telling me now. I trust you, and…” She sighs. “And at least I could help you. Should you want me. Or- Or you know. The DEO.”

Lena stares for a moment, then nods but doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t say that she hasn’t touched the black rock ever since she came back, hasn’t even gone to the lab. She doesn’t know yet what she’d do now, but with  _ everything  _ out in the open and Kara’s offer extended her way, Lena feels safer. Better.

“I’m not without my faults,” Lena tells Kara. “And you may not necessarily understand why I do things but you have to believe that I have good intentions.”

“I know, Lena,” Kara says. She smiles, puts her hand on the table to reach for Lena but hesitates and pulls back quickly, like she is terrified. “So,” she says instead, “any recommendations for this place?”

 

They order their food and eat in casual conversation about work and current events. They don’t talk about how things are between them, not outright, but when Kara hesitates before asking Lena if she could leave for an  _ emergency,  _ Lena lets her go with understanding. 

“Take care, Kara,” she whispers to the space across her where Kara had sat, but Lena knows the heroine heard.

.

.

.

.

.

Rebuilding a friendship is such an odd thing; Lena doesn’t exactly know how it should go, but everything is new and familiar at the same time, like she is relearning Kara. It’s terrifying to walk on eggshells, but it’s on honesty that they establish their relationship this time around. Brunches become more frequent and less awkward, like way back when. Kara’s laughs around her are like the summer sun again, and Lena finally stops worrying she’ll trip over the house of cards they have built in the few weeks they had since being stuck in that hellhole of a safe house. 

.

.

.

One time, during brunch at CatCo, Kara brings out a plastic tupperware.

“What is that?” Lena readily asks, eyeing the item suspiciously.

“It’s a Sagrykiaan dessert,” Kara explains. “It’s good.”

“It’s a what?” 

“Sagrykiaan? It’s, uh, some… planets away from here?” Kara says as she puts the tupperware on the table. She slides it towards Lena’s direction.

“I’m not going to eat that,” Lena says dryly, pushing it back to Kara. “Is that safe for humans?”

“Yeah!” Kara laughs. “Come on, Lena, don’t you trust me?”

It was meant to be a casual jibe, Lena knows, except Kara seems to realize what she said and her eyes widen. She takes back the offered brick-looking jello-type dessert and mumbles  _ nevermind  _ under her breath, fiddles with her glasses and laughs awkwardly. “We can just, I don’t know, um- maybe- maybe get ice cream?”

Lena stares at her. The fragments of blonde hair, blue eyes, and glasses are images she can see even when she closes her eyes, even when she dreams at night, and though she can never picture Kara’s face in her mind when she thinks of her, she feels the warmth of her memory in her very bones, like the sun is back in it’s rightful place in the sky. 

“I do trust you,” Lena whispers.

And the relief that floods Kara’s entire being is visible even if Lena can’t really make out much of her expression—she lets out a long breath and her shoulders relax as if the weight she carries has lifted from her, and she lets out a laugh that is soft and heartfelt. 

Lena memorizes it, and when she thinks of Kara it’s of blonde hair, blue eyes, and a laugh that is lovelier than song.

.

.

.

.

.

“Do you remember when we were at the safe house?” Lena asks, one day, many months later. They just finished brunch; Lena has a meeting with the Catco board and Kara said she has fieldwork with her mentee, Nia, to go to afterwards. Kara looks up from where she pulls open the lid of her fruit salad to meet her gaze. Lena hesitates before she continues. “When you explained your side about why… You know.”

Kara nods once. She puts her dessert cup on the table. “Yeah,” she mumbles, like she doesn’t want to talk about it. 

Lena smiles tightly and nods, too. “You said it turned out that I didn’t need you.” 

Kara doesn’t reply, just sighs. Lena chews on her bottom lip, and when she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. “I  _ don’t _ need Supergirl,” she says. 

The blonde just nods again, though there is defeat in the way she held herself, like all the hope she has been holding on to for so long had vanished right before her eyes. Lena lets out a breath, hesitates, before finally reaching out, putting her hand palm up on table. 

“It’s only ever really been Kara Danvers I needed,” Lena says.

Kara stares and laughs in disbelief, and when the words seem to finally sink in, she smiles like the sun, and it reaches her ocean eyes, her glasses unable to hide the warmth of it. She slides her hand over Lena’s. 

“You have me,” Kara says. “Always.”

Lena smiles, too. “And you have me.” 


End file.
